No secret left untold
by Twillium
Summary: This is crack. Pure utter crack based on the premise Diaval/Phillip. That is all. This is a story about a Prince and his dragon, A boy and his bird, a beast and a wild thing.
1. Chapter 1

There are no secrets in their little family. If Maleficent knows something she will tell Diaval, who will mention it to Aurora who will pass it on to Phillip. Phillip of course being charmingly absent minded as he is will mention whatever it is when Maleficent is present and the circle of their miniature rumor mill will be complete.

Things pass between them like this as they may. Sometimes in hushed whispers, sometimes in loud mouthed exclamations, few times in a queer mixture of both. Aurora's failed relationship with Phillip and their subsequent close friendship is one of these things. There is a hushed uproar in which everyone in the moors exclaims over this newfound revelation (no longer excluded to their little group); lamenting over the failed relationship and tip toeing around the subject in turns. Until Knotgrass, Thistlewit and Flittle come crying to their once-upon-a-time charge about how 'he was such a nice boy!' and 'when will you get another chance like this?'

Once they are sufficiently calmed however the silent uproar about the subject was calmed. And Aurora and Phillip (who had regarded the whole thing with a quiet, exasperated amusement) are finally left in peace to pursue much more things. Such as marveling over the different fae, riding around in the woods and lounging about the river.

Prospects Diaval would be more than happy to leave them to. If he wasn't stuck as a chaperone; tasked with watching over 'beastie one and beastie two'. However chaperone is too high a word for what he does. Third wheel, he feels, would be much more adequate.

Aurora and Maleficent, now that all secrets have been put to rest, are absorbed in each other's presence. It's a thing of wonder to watch them. Who need and care for each other above everything. Or perhaps, it would be if he wasn't stuck watching them all hours of the day and making awkward conversation with Phillip. Who often comes by to visit Aurora and finds himself subtly excluded by Maleficent's presence.

This is precisely the reason Diaval finds himself once again stuck with Phillip one day he comes by. Only this time he is in no mood to make small talk about the weather.

"Hello Diaval."  
"Hmmm."

If Phillip is put off by his non-answer he doesn't show it. Merely sits down next to Diaval at the edge of the river bank and lets him bask in blessed silence for a while. Seconds and minutes pass and Phillip has still not spoken a word, for which Diaval is grateful for. He has woken up with resounding headache today and is in no state to be attending to Aurora's guest; which she is ignoring; in favor of cavorting around the woods with Maleficent today. Like every other day.

Sometimes when he has nothing more important to think about, Diaval meditates on how he might feel a little sorry for Phillip. Who is much too courteous for his own good and willingly gives up the time he has set aside to visit aurora so she can waltz around the forest with her Fairy Godmother. It is this fact and this fact alone that makes him take a deep breath, try to will his headache away and direct his first words of the day to Phillip.

"Aurora's not here. But I presume you've gathered that already."  
"Yes I have. Thank you for telling me though." Phillip's accompanying smile is too perfect and dazzlingly chipper for someone with a recently terminated relationship who has been steadily ignored for the past few days. Diaval doesn't know if he's completely annoyed or if he envies him for it.

"Uh, is something the matter?" Phillip asks, looking a little put off, as Diaval realizes he has been staring, quite intensely.  
"Nothing…just a headache." He says, casting around for a plausible explanation. It's a rather bad habit of his, staring. It comes with being not just Maleficent's wings, but her eyes and ears for many, many years. Whether he is bird, or man, or whatever his mistress has turned him into at the moment; he can't shake off the habit of paying minute attention to detail so as to make a report. He tears his eyes away from Phillip (cataloguing deep brown eyes, hair with streaks of blonde, the light dusting of freckles on his nose) silently reprimanding himself for being noticed. Because while staring might be a bad habit, it is an even worse one to get caught.

"Oh, well I actually have something that could help with that." Phillip offers, all bright smiles and sunny disposition.  
Diaval agrees to try his remedy if only to get him occupied with something else for a little while.  
In the end procuring it occupies Phillip for quite some time. As it is some kind of herbal tea that must be prepared and in the time it takes them to gather firewood, set up the kettle and bring it to a boil, it is past the afternoon. They have a surprisingly good time together, sitting around the fire in the riverbank, as Phillip is neither exhausting nor annoying and sufficiently distracts Diaval from his headache until the tea is ready.

"I'm supposed to drink this?" Diaval asks, eyeing the unappetizing black liquid with distaste.  
"Yes, Mother and her courtesans swear by it!" Phillip says his damnable good mood ever present.  
Diaval sniffs at the thing once or twice, a heady mixture of something that resembles cut grass and mint with a healthy dose of stagnant pond water. "I refuse."  
"Oh please, don't be so stubborn. It'll do you good! Besides, I thought you were once a big, bad dragon. Hard to believe you're scared of a little leaf water." Phillips eyes sparkle with mirth and Diaval is struck by the utter and absolute cheek the little chit has. But he reluctantly concedes that he has a point. And so with all the bravado of a man/raven determined to save his pride he downs a huge swallow in one go; only to promptly spit it out into the river as soon as he can.

"Have you just tried to poison me?" He tries to ask, in between all the gagging and choking. But his words are barely heard amidst Phillip's uproarious laughter.  
"Oh Heavens above," Phillip cackles, half dead from mirth. "Your face!"

Diaval feels his metaphorical feathers bristle, but before he can get a word out Phillip holds up a hand and controls his laughter enough to offer him an utterly sincere sounding 'I'm sorry'. And all of a sudden he can't stay mad at him or his brilliant smile.

"I know it tastes foul but you must drink it."  
"Good luck getting me to drink that filthy thing again."  
"It won't do you any good at all if you don't drink it."  
"I'd rather that than taste that pond scum again."

Phillip's counter arguments aren't all that effective; as he keeps laughing in between all of Diaval's objections, little hiccupping laughs like he's choking on the very air. Diaval doesn't know if he should be offended by this or not. Neither his mistress nor Aurora ever seemed to find him so amusing. He doesn't quite know what to do with such a response.

"Diaval please?" Phillip manages at last after a particularly vicious round of laughter. Clasping Diaval's hand in his own, his warm calloused hands the very antithesis of his own smooth, cool ones. Diaval looks down at their clasped hands then looks up and at Phillip's face to see the most earnest, happy expression he's ever seen directed at him there.  
"Alright, if only to stop you from making doe eyes at me until I say yes."

Phillip laughs once more and gives Diaval's hand a squeeze. "That's the spirit."

Diaval's stomach does a queer flip at that. He tries to blame it on nausea at the prospect of drinking that vile tea.  
It doesn't quite work.

After the instance with the hideous tea, Phillip seems to take a fondness to him; seeking him out nearly as much as Aurora in his trips to the moors.

It doesn't matter if he is in raven or human form. Once Aurora inevitably takes her leave to be with Maleficent for the day Phillips just hangs around Diaval for the remainder of his time at the moors. In those few weeks, he learns quite a lot about Phillip. As he tells him about his life as a prince and they wander around the forest.

Phillip it seems is quite the rascal, forever escaping his tutors to go exploring the woods; claiming with one of his brilliant smiles that 'My wisdom is more of a practical sort anyway.'  
He reminds him of Aurora in a sense, both of them woods children (who are children no more). But where Aurora is calm and serene and ethereal Phillip is bright and blazing and wild. He fits in the moors as much as she does, though in different ways. Aurora, he knows, is a free spirit. Phillip he learns, is a wild thing.

He follows no set pattern, but instead following his whims and wishes as he sees fit. As a crow, Diaval can respect that, as a human, he is more than a little bit exasperated. This is one of such times.

"Come Diaval, you will never learn to dance by staying put!" Phillip urges him; waltzing around in a circle with a giggling Thistlewit to the tune of several singing water fae.

"No."  
"What more could you wish for? There is good music; plenty of stars; a full moon, there are even fireflies about! A more romantic scenario could not be had; dance with the ladies, will you?"  
"I hardly consider these ladies" He smirks, as the three faeries exhale identical huffs of annoyance. "Besides, I don't know how. Why don't you go pester Aurora?" He says, gesturing towards where she sits next to Maleficent, giggling at the whole procedure.

Instead of having the intended effect, all his words do is bring Phillip to a grinding halt. "You don't know how to dance?"  
"I beg your pardon, we birds are rarely taught the art of proper court life."  
"That's still preposterous you're not just a bird. You're also a man, and any man worth his salt knows how to dance. Come on, I'll teach you!" Phillip extends his hand towards him, bright eyed and hopeful and the no's die on Diaval's tongue; though the yes is still very far off.

Phillip must take his dumbstruck silence as the world's least convincing yes because he quickly grasps his hands with those warm ones once more and hauls him to the center of their makeshift dance floor. "It's easy!" The little bastard says, with another one of his brilliant smiles. "Just put your hand on my shoulder right there. And your hand in mine like this! I'll put my hand on your waist and lead this time. If you're ever the one leading just reverse the positions!" He instructs him, rearranging their hands, until they're in the correct position. Diaval can hear everyone laughing at them, can hear Aurora's giggles, can feel his mistresses' smirk even if he can't see it. His ears burn hot with shame and he's about to stumble out of Phillip's grasp until he commits the mistake of looking at him in the eyes.

Because he's smiling that damnable smile and he gives his hand a squeeze and Diaval's very human stomach does the most tremendous of flips. Phillip just laughs, low and raspy and instructs him to 'follow me' and off they go, twirling madly.

If he wasn't used to the acrobatics of flying he might have been unbelievably sick right then and there. Phillip spins them like a top, going much faster than he had gone with Thistlewit, until everything else is a blurry mess and the only thing he can make out is the other's face. They go faster and faster until at last, Diaval, unused to the motions stumbles and falls and brings Phillip crashing down with him.

They roll into the ground, nearly ending up in the river, and for a moment, everything is warmth and laughter and the weight of Phillip on top of him.  
No longer contented with flips, Diaval's stomach breaks out in riotous butterflies.

It's been a few days since the dancing incident (as he has taken to referring to it in his mind). And things have gone back to normal. Though the damnable stomach flipping seems worse than ever.

Damnable stomach flipping which he has no time for at all, he reminds himself as he watches Phillip strip off his shirt to wash it in the creek. 'You're a bird.' He resolutely tells himself as his eyes follow the curve of Phillip's back without his express permission. 'A dashing, smart bird; but still a bird.' He repeats this to himself resolutely, so caught up in his mantra that he hardly notices when Phillip has moved right in front of him, inches from his face.  
"I was wondering when you were going to notice me." Phillip says, low and soft and wistful.  
"How could I not? When you're blocking everything." He says, unable to raise his voice for fear of breaking this moment. Whatever it is.

They continue to stare at each other for what feels like ages upon ages. Where he can feel Philip's breath fan across his skin; can count the freckles on the bridge of his nose; can see the depths of an emotion he can't name in the other's eyes. All the while the damnable flips are doing triple acrobatics across his stomach.

Then all of a sudden one of them moves, the both of them are moving to meet each other in the middle. And Diaval finally understands why humans place so much stock in kissing. It feels as weightless as flying. Something that fills him up with a warmth and a lightness like he's never known. His mind is wiped clear of every thought except that he never wants this to end. Phillip's lips are cool and soft against him and when he buries his fingers in Diaval's hair and opens his mouth, there is a whole bevy of new sensations to explore. Both of them giving and taking in equal measure until the moment mellows out into something lazy and hazy and completely and utterly wonderful.

They break apart breathing heavy, wide eyed and red lipped.  
"Well then." Phillips chuckles, running his hands through Diaval's hair once more; as he feels himself flush, a pinkish splotchy red that does not become him.

Maleficent appears over his shoulder that very afternoon, quiet as a shadow. "I always knew you were too sassy for your own good."

"I beg your pardon mistress?"  
"Phillip told Aurora, who told me, so I could tell you: We all saw it coming."


	2. Chapter 2

In every story as soon as the prince kissed the princess it signals the end. Diaval has always known that life is not like a story (except when it is and you have to trade in your wings for gangly legs). So it's only logical to understand that just because you kissed the boy it does not mean everything is magically sorted out.

And it isn't. It really, really isn't. After the kiss he and Phillip dance around the subject for what feels like ages. Stubbornly pretending it didn't happen for reasons neither of them can understand (a strange mix of stubbornness, reluctance and fear). There are days where they skate around the edges of each other, too hesitant to reach out, to say anything; just like there are days where they slowly but surely shift into each other's spaces. Like planets orbiting the same sun, circling the same objective. It's a matter of minutes and seconds till they start shifting closer and closer; until their fingers brush or their thighs touch and they're sitting so much closer than necessary. Diaval senses that they probably would have gone on like this for quite some time if it wasn't for Aurora's and Maleficent's intervention. Which Maleficent approaches with all her usual tact: 'Please do not make me beg; the both of you need to stop acting like swooning maidens at once.'

But in the end with a little pushing and a little shoving they can finally clear out a space to talk to each other about it; whatever it happens to be.  
Or at least, it would be a space to talk to each other; if one of them was actually doing any talking. Because it is currently a very warm and mild afternoon in the moors; the birds are singing the bees are buzzing the fae are frolicking and Diaval is currently contemplating how much simpler life was when he was a dumb bird. Since he is now stuck sitting on a very uncomfortable rock, wallowing in the awkward silence between him and Phillip.

"So," Phillip begins hesitantly with a wry smile. "Aurora said you wished to talk to me?"  
"Yes. We have…things….to discuss." Diaval takes a deep breath and prepares himself for what's to come. But before he can get a word out, Phillip's hand is at his shoulder and he's faced with a deeply apologetic expression he doesn't quite know what to do with.  
"Diaval, I'm sorry." The words plunge through him like a sword; one that conveniently misses all your vital organs and leaves you to bleed out on the floor. Obviously this is the part where Phillip lets him down easy. Because who in their right mind wants to entertain any sort of vaguely romantic relationship with a bird? Diaval clenches his fingers like he would his talons and longs for wings to fly away from this conversation.  
"If I have completely misunderstood the nature of our relationship and you have my sincerest apologies."

"I beg your pardon?" The words tumble out, instinctual and unbidden, confusion coloring his tone.  
Phillip stops dead in his metaphorical tracks, eyes narrowed and mouth hanging open comically. "This isn't about you turning me down?"  
"Oh, no; quite the opposite in fact." He mumbles, looking away, unable to face him for the time being.

Phillip, being the motherless son of a goat that he is just laughs. Laughs himself sick, until he's gasping for air, slouching onto Diaval's shoulder. "Must you always do this?" Diaval asks, aiming for annoyance but finding his traitorous voice is colored with fondness.  
"I am just relieved!" Phillip exclaims as soon as he can control his laughing fit.  
"And your immediate reaction to relief is to laugh about it?"  
"Oh come off it. It was funny! I completely misunderstood the situation!"  
"I still don't see the cause for amusement."  
"You're just bitter because you thought I was laughing at you."

Diaval levels Phillip with a flat stare at this supposed revelation. Phillip just smiles and grabs his hand, sweeping a thumb over the knuckles. "If you want I could kiss it better."  
And without waiting for an answer he does. Sweeping in and placing a soft kiss on the corner of Diaval's mouth. Lingering there until he can feel Phillip's smile pressed against his skin.

"You're incorrigible."  
"Yes. But you like me for it."

After that moment has broken the ice they talk. They talk until the sun sets in the horizon and the moors are painted yellow and orange in the half light. In that moment, when the last dregs of sunlight splay across Phillip's face, illuminating him in a brilliant halo, Diaval realizes that while he doesn't know what this is. He will do all in his power to keep it. Keep this brilliant, wild boy who has seen fit to pin all his affections on him.

In the end by mutual decision this is what marks the course of their relationship. A blissful ignorance as to what they are actually doing. But a fierce desire to keep doing it as often as possible.  
A feeling as ferocious of as their natures; as vicious as Diaval's words. Who has not yet bothered to learn the human art of tact and subtlety (ravens have no need of such things).

It is a funny thing, their caring for each other. For while he is at heart a bird, Diaval has the manners of a dragon. Fierce, prideful, and protective; feelings that come as easily to him as flames do to the great drakes of legend.  
They are a prince and his dragon; a beast and a wild thing.  
Because sometimes, life is like in fairytales.  
But not completely.

Because if it was so, the prince would marry the princess and they would live happily ever after. But Phillip is not with Aurora. Sweet Aurora who is graceful and beautiful and far more fitting for a prince than he could ever hope to be.  
The idea eats at him, gnaws on his anxieties until there is a gaping hole of insecurity that cannot be ignored.

So one day he swallows his pride and tries to approach the situation with Phillip as subtly as he can to assuage his fears.  
"Why did you end your relationship with her?" He asks as nonchalantly as he can. As they watch Aurora make daisy chains and place them around Maleficent's horns; adorning her until she has a veritable headdress made of wildflowers.  
"She had her heart set on someone else." Phillip whispers as Aurora laughs at some pithy comment Maleficent has said and places a kiss on her cheek. "But I thought you knew that already."

Diaval clenches his jaw, grits his teeth, does not respond. Phillip just laughs, like he always does, and laces their fingers together. "Silly Bird. I don't mind. My heart was also set on someone else."  
That simple comment is enough to melt away all of his fears. And when Phillip lays his head on Diaval's shoulder there isn't even a touch of the recent anxiety that had shadowed any and all displays of affection.

Most of the time Diaval is infinitely delicate with Phillip; as if he is afraid that he may break him with a single touch. Afraid like he may taint him just by contact, by association; like he may vanish with a puff and a flurry of sparks if you press the wrong spot.  
There are few times when Phillip can tempt him to let his guard down, to trace his skin not like if he was a precious work of art on a pedestal. But like any other person.

Those times almost always have to do with kissing. There's something about other types of affection when it comes to Diaval. He can keep his cool through most of them. It does not matter if it's a hug or a touch or holding hands. He always keeps a respectful distance (as far as he can get without seeming aloof). But as soon as the kissing stars it seems to melt down some of his defenses. Until he's tentatively touching even when he's not told to, hesitant fingers digging into the cloth of Phillip's shirt, curling into the contours of his hip.

This afternoon is one of those times. Diaval is sitting against a tree, Phillip firmly situated in the vee of his legs. Both of them kissing slowly, leisurely, like they have all the time in the world; which they practically do. Aurora has run off with Maleficent looking flushed and jumpy (as if they don't really know what they're doing) with the promise of not coming back for a few hours. Phillip, being the daring little bastard that he is, proposes the idea of a walk, just so halfway through their outing he can corner Diaval into a random tree and push him down into their current position. Where he's currently entertaining himself by muffling all sorts of noises against Diaval's open mouth while he digs his fingers into the other's hair.

"Damn you," Phillip chuckles, burrowing his face into the juncture of Diaval's neck. "What would it take for you to lose that blasted composure."  
"A lot more than this." Diaval comments blithely (if a bit out of breath), blatantly enjoying Phillip's frustration.  
"Really?" Phillip asks, one of his hideously cheeky smiles blazing across his mouth. "I shall take that as an affront to my abilities and a personal challenge."  
"You would keep your calm if I were to do this?" A light kiss is placed against his collarbone. "Or this?" A series of kisses flit about on his throat. "Or this?" Phillip says with a devious tone in his voice as his hands dive under Diaval's shirt. Only to skate up, towards his shoulder blades, where they dig into the dip between them (right where his wings would be) as Phillip gives a teasing bite to his shoulder. At that moment something involuntary and guttural takes over him and Diaval makes a noise. The most embarrassing of noises that he can't help. A cross between a sigh and a groan is ripped out of him. Phillip, sensing victory, digs his nails into Diaval's back, sucks a kiss into the hollow of his throat.  
This is the moment Diaval loses it.  
He has Phillip on his back quick as a flash, something hungry in his eyes. At that moment Phillip foolishly remembers Ravens are the smartest birds of prey.

"You were better off, leaving my composure intact." He murmurs, pressing a deceivingly chaste kiss into Phillip's cheek. "You should have just left the poor thing well enough alone." He kisses lower, reaching the arch of his neck, hears Phillip's breath hitch and delights in the sound. "But you've always been much too curious for your own good. Haven't you?"  
"Well you know me. I'm always looking for a new adventure." Phillip laughs, like every other time, and if it's slightly breathier than before, neither of them mention it.

"You're a danger to humanity. You're a danger to yourself. But most importantly, you're a danger to me." Diaval whispers, the tension thick enough to cut through with a knife.  
"Guess you'll just have to teach me a lesson won't you?" Phillip whispers back, cheeky to his last.  
"If that is what his majesty wishes."  
"His majesty wishes that you'd just get on with whatever you're threatening to do. It's getting rather boring down here, honestly."

Diaval's eyes darken at his words, and just smiles. A wicked smile with too much teeth that makes Phillip wonder just what he's gotten into. "Done," He says and proceeds to kiss Phillip senseless for the first time.

It is warm and vicious and relentless the way Diaval kisses at the moment. Pushing and pulling and biting in equal measure, until Phillip lets go of all inhibitions and he's not even trying to muffle the noises he makes anymore. They kiss like nobody's watching, like they're not lying in the grass in the woods where anyone could happen upon them at any moment.

Diaval feels warm, too warm and out of control. He knows he should stop but does not want to. He can only lavish kisses against Phillip's everything. Press his hands desperately against the other's flesh as if he can fuse them together. Muffle his groans so no one can hear. There is a horrible, embarrassing moment when Diaval has had quite enough of Phillip's annoying shirt.

His original intention was just to take it off. But he finds that he has gone a tad too far when a deafening ripping sound cuts through the silence of the forest.  
For a moment both of them look down utterly dumbfounded.  
Then Phillip proceeds to laugh like he has never laughed before, red faced and gasping for air while Diaval flushes more than he's ever done before.  
"You ripped my shirt!" he cackles while Diaval squeezes his eyes shut and pretends very, very hard that this never happened.

It is a while before Phillip can calm down from his raucous laughing fit and Diaval can open his eyes and face reality. But when it they finally go back to normal the mood is utterly and completely lost. Neither of them mind too much. Leaving it be in favor of going back to Maleficent's tree to rest among its roots and wait for her and Aurora to come back.

It turns out they are in for a long wait. So long, that what was supposed to be a small rest turns into a full blown sleep over.  
Phillip lies on Diaval's chest, both of them buried into the nest of blankets that are now a permanent fixture under Maleficent's tree. It is a night like many others at the moors, but Diaval cannot help but find it soothing, just like finds every other night. There are a million and one stars visible tonight; whole constellations and planets along with a full moon. But tonight he doesn't look up and marvel at the universe like usual. Instead he sets his sights much further down. At the young man sleeping on his chest. Phillip, he mediates is not a bad looking person, as far as humans go. He has a fair enough face, framed by long brown hair (now long enough that he keeps it tied back) and dusky lashes that would not look out of place on some fluttering maiden. Truth be told Diaval has never understood how to differentiate human beauty, the subtleties of that art evade him. But perhaps it is just as best that they do. Because what he likes best about Phillip is by no means his looks.

It is something far more precious than that.  
It is the small things about him. The way he laughs at everything, the way he can't seem to sit still for too long. The habit he has of picking up every interesting shiny thing he sees and stuffing it in his pocket; his bravery, his chivalry his devotion. All the things the courtesans disdain in Phillip, Diaval ends up loving.

"By the gods," he whispers looking up at the tiny pinpricks of light above them. "I'm turning into a soppy old maid."


End file.
